This fic is entirely based upon an amazing conversation in Trials and Tribulations which no one ever talks about. It's from Bridge to Turnabout.
Butz: It reminds me of art class in grade school. We used to have a lot of fun decorating the classroom with origami. Remember?
Edgeworth: W-Well, I...
Butz: Oh, yeah... You were never any good at it.
Gumshoe: Really?
Butz: Yeah, this guy was so bad, he couldn't even fold a dollar, let alone a crane. Everyone tried to comfort him, but he would just sit there sobbing.
Gumshoe: Really? I never would have expected that.
Edgeworth: Be quiet already! I'll never forget the shame of that day! You want a crane! I can now make a perfect quarter-inch crane without a single flaw!
Butz: ... You know, Edgey... Nothing for nothing, but a quarter-inch crane without a single flaw is not easy.
Gumshoe: Yeah, that's quite a feat, Prosecutor Edgeworth!
Edgeworth: (Grr... This is exactly why I hate childhood friends...)
How is it that such an Edgeworth conversation not up there with "unnecessary feelings" or "Wait, hold on. Laaaaaaryyyy! It was you!? YOU'RE the one who wrote my Steel Samurai autograph!?"
I mean unnecessary feelings will not top anything of course, but this convo was one which I've been thinking about recently.
Read, review, and enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Ace Attorney.
Phoenix knew that something was wrong, the moment school was let out. Miles was never this quiet on a Friday. Piece of Cake aired a new episode that day. He had no reason to be as somber as he was, when there was so much to look forwards to. And they had no homework to boot!
He couldn't place his finger on what the issue was, no matter how often he attempted to tap his forehead, like Miles did. He had also tried to use some of the "logic" he so often talked about, drawing connections to what the problem could possibly be.
It had started after lunch, fourth period to be exact, art. So, there was something in that class which had bothered him. There were signs Miles started to show when he couldn't solve a problem in class. He didn't say much as they walked home, giving only simple responses. And he kept his eyes downcast, focusing on little more than the sidewalk ahead of him. It was all familiar to Phoenix, but he had never known Miles to not solve the answers to their work. He wouldn't be acting this way on their walk home, so he had originally wanted to rule the possibility out.
Then, he remembered there was a connection to art somewhere. It had taken a great deal more of logic before he was able to string the events together.
"How'd you find today's art assignment?" Phoenix asked, in the most nonchalant manner he could.
Miles always seemed to see straight through his bluff, no matter how innocent he tried to act.
"You know how it went."
"Actually," he began sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "I don't. It was my turn to clean the music room, remember?"
"If you're going to miss class, then you should go to the teacher for your catch-up work."
"Well the teacher told me to ask a reliable friend for the homework, so there!"
That made him hesitate. After a pained moment, he answered, "we've started a unit on traditional paper folding."
"Origami?"
"Yes. The grade's goal is to fold one thousand cranes."
"Like in the story?"
"Yes."
For the time being, Phoenix assumed that would be all he could get out of Miles.
There was a pebble on the sidewalk.
Miles gave the first kick, and Phoenix followed through. They focused on that. Silent except for the occasional passing car, and the skittering of the pebble. Sometimes, he just didn't want to talk. No amount of pressuring would succeed, not if he wished to avoid being snapped at. Indirectly asking on the other side... Phoenix actually wasn't any good at it, but he knew it would work if he tried hard enough.
The pebble traveled with them, through the busy intersection, far away enough to avoid the stench of the fish market. When they crossed the bridge over the flood control channel, they aimed with care, successfully stopping it from falling into the water below. When they came to the train tracks, they looked from side-to-side with great caution.
The moment they were deemed old enough to walk home alone, their heads were filled with horror stories of what could happen: one could be swept away if they got too close to the storm drainage system. It was important to stay far from the market when all the rough-looking men delivered food in the mornings. The teenagers got out of school twenty minutes after them, so they needed to come home quickly.
Above all else, crossing the tracks was to be done quickly, and preferably as a car was passing over as well. They didn't dare risk playing games, and there was no shame in gripping the other's shaky hand before sprinting across the rails. They didn't stop running until they were a safe distance away. As they doubled over, waiting for their breath to catch up, Phoenix decided to solve the mystery, more sneakily this time. It helped that Miles was more focused on breathing steadily than what he was about to say.
"Miles, how much is a thousand divided by sixty-four?"
"Fifteen cranes per student," he blandly stated. "The teachers are going to fold twenty each."
"Ah. Um... How many did you fold today?"
He stared at the ground, and muttered something.
"Er, pard-"
"I said none," he spat, his tone venomous. "I didn't get any done."
"You can't-?"
"J-just ask the Butz. I can't fold a dollar let alone a crane!"
"I didn't want to ask Larry, Miles, I wanted to hear it from you!"
Looking at Phoenix, the anger drained from him.
"Well now you know."
Strange. Phoenix thought he would have felt much more victorious, having successfully used logic, interrogation, and even strategy to get the answer. Maybe he was shocked. Shocked that the certifiable genius beside him couldn't do something as simple as fold a paper crane. Chasing on the heels of surprise was empathy, and something confusing. It made his palms sweaty- when he realized they were still holding hands he quickly let go- and his cheeks burned scarlet. The rush of emotions which overwhelmed him was almost as fast as the words which tumbled out of his mouth.
"Let me help you! We can practice together so you're ready for next time!"
Phoenix fully expected him to dismiss the offer. Yet, after a tense moment of contemplation, Miles wordlessly agreed.
"Uh, g-great!" Phoenix replied, stunned. "Whose house should we go to?"
"Mine. We can walk by yours so you can tell your parents where you are. It will be faster."
He nodded with enough enthusiasm for the both of them.
"Alright!"
They followed through with the plan. He stayed in his house long enough to tell his dad where he would be. From the stack of art supplies he kept in his room, Phoenix was able to fish out a package of origami paper. It was cut into perfect squares, and came in different colours, as well as patterns. He kept it hugged to his chest during their walk to Miles' house, trying to contain the tumultuous emotions which swirled inside of him. He was starting to feel victorious now. Maybe it had to do with using logic successfully, or maybe it was due to Miles actually wanting to spend time with him. Phoenix didn't trust himself to speak, so he bit the inside of his cheek until the taste of blood filled his mouth.
Miles' dad was sleeping on the couch, hat over his face, and a case file clutched to his chest- much like the package of paper Phoenix held to his own. As they tip-toed past him, to the kitchen table, Miles made it abundantly clear they should limit talking. That was fine with Phoenix, because he was certain he would say something stupid if given the opportunity to say the unnecessary.
"Is there anything else we'll need?"
"Scissors, a ruler, and some pencils."
From their school supplies, they procured all of these things. From his notebook, Phoenix tore out a sheet of paper for both of them.
"We'll start out simple," he explained, "before we use the square paper."
Lucky stars were one of the easiest things to fold, as long as one had scissors, and Phoenix found them rather addicting to make. So much so that his mom would get on his case for leaving them scattered throughout the house. It was simple to cut a long strip of paper. The most difficult part was tying a knot that wasn't loose, or making it so tight the paper tore. From there, all one had to do was fold the paper around the knot, from all five of the knot's sides. Then, by pinching the corners, it was possible to make a star-shape puff up. On Miles' first and second attempts, his entire paper unraveled. Following that, he reached the point where he was supposed to press the corners with his nails, but his paper coiled once more. The fourth wasn't any more star-shaped, but at the very least, it didn't fall apart on him. With this, Miles seemed to relax a little.
Phoenix made him practice lucky stars until both sheets had been sliced to ribbons. Slivers of paper scattered across the once-neat kitchen table. Miles wanted to fuss about it instead of trying to fold lucky stars, but Phoenix wouldn't let him. He swept the scraps up, and took them to the recycling. A pile of unsuccessful stars accumulated. It started with curls of uncooperative paper, which gradually evolved into solid forms. Their sides were dimpled, and crevices formed in them, from where fingernails had tried to push the paper inwards. The form either didn't stay, or it wasn't star-like in shape. But at long-last, one of the stiff bundles of paper graduated into a star. It was still lumpy, but there was no mistaking the five, clear points. Phoenix had Miles make another sheet's worth of proper stars before they moved on to the next task.
"Jumping frogs," he announced, opening the package of square paper.
"Isn't that what Larry makes all the time in class?" Miles asked, his nose wrinkling in distaste.
"Yeah. It's fun to see whose can go the farthest. Sort of like paper airplanes."
"Are those next?"
"What would you do with something meant to disrupt class?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if you tried to teach me anyway," Miles retorted.
"I'm glad I chose to do lucky stars instead of airplanes," Phoenix thought to himself. To Miles, he said, "jumping frogs are a harder. They start out easy, but get harder."
This project needed the square paper. From the package, Phoenix found two sheets of matching jade green. The first half of the jumping frog was easy to make. The paper had to be creased, forming an intersecting, diagonal pattern. He showed Miles how to keep the folds stronger, by running his thumbnail along the edge, how to align the paper in such a way that it would not overlap. They painstakingly went through each step, making fold after fold, triangles piling on top of each other. Miles' frog turned out slightly lopsided on the first go. But Phoenix was able to point out where it went wrong. The next were better, it was memorizing the order of folds which caused trouble.
He stopped Miles if he made a misstep, but Phoenix's mind started to wander. Phoenix thought about his hands, watching as they doubled over the paper, tucked corners into other sides, dragged his nails across the seams. He thought about holding Miles' hand again, his palms almost instantly became sweaty at the idea. Dashing across the train tracks was different, it was a safety thing, everyone did it!
...
That was different, right?
"O-other way," Phoenix quickly corrected, before Miles could make another mistake.
With a noise of acknowledgement, he fixed it. By the time that frog was finished, a small army of them sat on the table, right next to the lucky stars. Phoenix decided that it was time for a break from all the folding. They penciled in little eyes for the frogs, giving them different expressions. Pressing the back of one, he sent it flying towards Miles. He sent one back in retaliation. Soon enough, they were competing to see whose frogs could jump over the most stars. When they grew tired of bickering over who won- it was hard to argue properly when they needed to be mindful of Mister Edgeworth- they returned to the ultimate challenge: folding a paper crane.
Phoenix dreaded it just as much as Miles, but not for the same reason. He had no choice but to talk Miles through the instructions, since they were so complicated. That just meant a greater chance of saying something he would regret in the process. Nevertheless, he selected a sheet for both of them, and started to walk through the basic procedure.
"The first parts are simple, just like the frog," he commented, beginning to fold. "We need everything to be triangular quarters first."
"I remember this much."
"Awesome. Now, we need to take the little flap which forms here, and..."
But things weren't awesome. No matter how hard Phoenix tried, no matter how many different ways of showing him to bend the body of the crane, Miles couldn't get it. His paper was becoming lined in all the wrong places, it was bending in frustrating directions, too, with so many flaws marring the surface. Tension crept into his shoulders as they went over the same step again and again. His stoic expression was long-gone, and Phoenix could see his fingers becoming twitchy.
"Miles, no!"
Just in time, Phoenix managed to save the crane from being crushed into a ball.
"Who cares?!" Miles snapped. "I can't do it! I c-can't-"
The paper had been saved from a crumpled fate, but his expression did not. Phoenix recognized the look on his face, the one he always got before he was about to cry. Then he began to sniffle, his eyes turned glassy.
"M-Miles-!"
"I-I-"
"L-let me help you!"
"You've already tried, it didn't work!"
"No, I mean um could I-"
The confusion delayed his tears.
"Could you what?"
Phoenix stretched across the table, and tentatively, he took Miles' hands in his own. Phoenix didn't know how else to explain it, words didn't work, seeing how to make the folds didn't work. Yet somehow, he got the idea that this method would. When Miles didn't say anything- he didn't even flinch- his nervousness grew stronger. It was yelling out his offer for help, crossing the train tracks, and every embarrassing moment he'd ever had all wrapped up into a neat package. He was going to say something stupid if he opened his mouth. He was probably gripping Miles' hands too much, he was probably sweaty and shaking and the shaking would ruin the crane even more than it already had been. But there they were, going through the remaining process. The crane was turning out, it was actually becoming a crane!
"Hey Mister Edgeworth what are you looking at- oh."
When they heard the voice, Phoenix almost fell out of his chair in fright. Miles had a similar reaction, yelping, and turning to face the two men in the threshold. Phoenix realized that their yelling from earlier might have something to do with Mr. Edgeworth being awake now. That didn't explain how the other person, a teenager really, had managed to sneak in the house.
"H-hello Mister Edgeworth!" Phoenix greeted, his voice cracking.
"Father! We were just-"
When he faltered, Phoenix joined in.
"-working..." he trailed off, not knowing what else to say.
"on a school project-"
"-for school!"
"Verily!"
"Yup!"
His eyes swept over the table, taking in the stars, the frogs. They came to a rest on the crane in the center of the table. It was made of a rich, magenta-coloured paper, and looked very rumpled. A tiny smile played on his face as he saw this, but he did not comment.
"It's late," he finally said, "normally I wake up because you're watching Piece of Cake."
They looked at the clock. The newest episode had aired over two hours ago.
"Miles! I'm so sorry! I made you miss-"
"It is of no consequence," he brushed off, as if it were simple as that. "I need to leave for flute practice anyway."
"I'm heading back out to the office, if you'd like a ride back Phoenix."
"U-uh-"
Phoenix looked between all the adults in the room, and Miles. The teenager looked like he was trying to contain his laughter, while Miles was studiously focused on putting every origami figure away. He had trouble meeting Mr. Edgeworth's gaze, he was too flustered, yet no one else in the room could tell him what he should say.
"Y-yes please,"
In silence, he gathered all his school things. It was not until they got into the car that Phoenix noted Miles wasn't with them.
"U-um, Sir-"
"His music teacher lives in the opposite direction," he explained, "Ray, my assistant you just met, will take him."
"Oh."
The full thought was actually, "oh great I'm trapped in a car with Miles' dad and I don't know how to react or what to say. What am I going to do?!" That, of course, was not the smartest thing to say. Instead, Phoenix chose to keep his hands tightly clasped, and stare straight ahead. Much to his horror, Mr. Edgeworth started to talk to him.
"What exactly is this project about?"
"We're folding the one thousand cranes. As a class, but-"
"Miles didn't know how, I take it?"
"No."
"How did you get him to accept help?" Mr. Edgeworth asked, amusement evident in his voice.
"Um," he blushed for the umpteenth time, "I- it just sort of came out. I kinda' yelled that I could help before I knew what I was doing."
He arched an eyebrow.
"Really? He's normally more stubborn than that."
"I guess I'm just the exception," he weakly attempted to joke.
A thoughtful look crossed his face, and he responded, "you just might be." Then, the seriousness in his demeanor faded. "Is it number fourteen?"
"Yes."
They pulled up on the driveway, but he was not home-free yet. When he tried to open the door, it wouldn't move. The child lock was on. His first reaction was to panic, but then he saw the expression on Mr. Edgeworth's face. He looked more reassuring than stern, it settled his nerves somewhat.
"Thank-you for your help."
"I-it was nothing, Sir!"
"Well I appreciate it, and I'm sure that Miles does as well."
"...Could you make sure he doesn't try to throw away the crane?"
"I'll see to it."
Emboldened by this, Phoenix added, "and make sure that he keeps practicing over the weekend."
Getting out of the car, he went around, opening the door for Phoenix. As he got out, the man offered, "I can give him a few pointers, too, if you'd like."
"Yes please. Thank-you for the ride Sir."
He brought a palm to rest on his hat, and cast his eyes downwards, pinned on the short boy before him.
"It was nothing, Phoenix."
On the Monday back at school, everyone was talking about the latest episode in Piece of Cake. Except for Miles, who was nowhere to be seen on the playground. Phoenix eventually found him and Larry, they were in the corner of the yard, fighting over something like they typically did.
"How could you make that when you couldn't do anything on Friday?" Larry indignantly asked.
"It was a simple matter of practice," he dismissed, before turning his attention to Phoenix. "Ah there you are."
Larry, not to be ignored, stomped his food and huffed, "Edgey! Show Phoenix what you did!"
"Did you make a crane?" Phoenix excitedly inquired, walking forwards.
"No! It's-"
"Put out your hands," he interrupted, not allowing Larry to finish. "And close your eyes until I say you can open them."
Doing as he was told, he waited for the telltale brush of something in his cupped palms.
"Go ahead."
It wasn't the crane he was expecting. It was made of a deep, blue paper, and yes, it was a little misshapen in places, but it couldn't be to the point where it didn't resemble a crane. There were folded wings, and a segmented tail...
"He made a dragon!" Larry announced.
"But dragons are even harder to make than cranes," he exclaimed, dumbfounded.
"Yeah well he gave me some spiel about your real given name meaning dragon and how his dad helped him and that blue is your favourite-"
Phoenix tried to tune Larry out, wanting to talk to Miles. But he wasn't there. Noticing how he was looking around, Larry explained that, too.
"He ran off when you had your eyes closed."
"What? Why?!"
Larry snorted.
"Pro'bly afraid that you'd think it was dumb or something."
"I don't think it's dumb."
He stared at the blue dragon, filled with incorrect creases and faults in the paper, and he thought. He thought about how long it had taken Miles to get a dragon- a dragon of all things!- just right. He thought about how kind Mr. Edgeworth really was, despite his serious appearance. He thought of hands, grasped together with alarming strength, he realized Miles' were just as hesitant to touch his own. And from that understanding, he came to one, silent conclusion.
"I love it."
Fin